


Incongruous Contradictions

by RiseHigh



Series: The Reluctant Housemates [3]
Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Reluctant Housemates, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseHigh/pseuds/RiseHigh
Summary: "By the way, Matteusz lives with us now.""Whatever."It's really straightforward.  Yet, at the same time, it's not.





	

The first night sleep came easy. Between the emotional exhaustion of the fight with his parents and the alien threat, it was easy for Charlie’s even breathing to lull him to sleep. Come morning, Matteusz awoke disoriented before he remembered where he was and who was beside him. He was grateful to have Charlie as his constant during the chaos of the last few weeks—even though, admittedly, the alien prince was the cause of much of that chaos. Matteusz regretted none of it.

Well, except for the clothes. He regretted not taking anything with him—not that he would have had time to the way the argument had escalated—but still. Charlie was understanding and immediately offered up his entire wardrobe, but that still left him without trousers other than the one he was wearing.

“We’ll buy you new ones.” 

Charlie gave him a cheery smile before taking his hand and leading him downstairs. Matteusz expected to be led straight out the door but was surprised by Charlie pulling him towards the kitchen and into the lounge where Miss Quill was seated with a cup of coffee and a book—Catching Fire in the Hunger Games series, he noted with mild amusement. He had noticed her reading the first book the night before. He glanced at the floor to see that the dust tracing of the gun had been cleaned and the screwdriver put away.

“What do you want?” she said without looking up from the book.

“I need money.”

She paused to turn the page before speaking. “You have a monthly allowance, Charles.”

“Which I had to use to fix my phone screen.”

“Not my problem. If you want money, get a job.”

“But I have school.”

Matteusz fought the urge to laugh at this incongruous exchange. It was so utterly normal—the kind of fight he would have had with his mum before—well, before things got complicated and they started fighting about him. He forced those thoughts back and, instead, thought about how either of the two would react if he told them they were bickering like a parent and child. Charlie would look disgusted. Miss Quill might smack him.

“Matteusz needs clothes.”

He stiffened as Miss Quill fixed her gaze on him. After looking him him up and down, she turned back to Charlie. “He’s worn things other than that to school.”

“But they’re not here,” Charlie said before Matteusz could answer. With other people he might have been annoyed to have someone speak for him, but it didn’t bother him when it was Charlie—and not just because it kept the focus of Miss Quill’s glare away from him. 

“Well, go get them.”

“We can’t.”

“Can’t?” she sighed and set her book aside. “Right, the teen angst.” 

Miss Quill stood up and walked towards the kitchen, leaving them to follow her. Matteusz wondered how much of his situation she actually knew. Charlie hadn’t elaborated the night before and she hadn't bothered with any follow-up questions.

“So?” Charlie prompted. 

She set her empty mug on the counter. “This is also not my problem,” she said without looking at either of them.

“You could go collect some of his things,” Charlie suggested.

“Could but won’t.” Miss Quill picked up the French press. “You go do it.”

“No,” Matteusz said with a shake of his head. Miss Quill looked at him in surprise. While this entire conversation was about him, it was as if she had forgotten he was there. “That would not be good.”

“You will go get his clothes,” Charlie said decisively. “It’s the perfect solution.”

Matteusz expected another biting argument from Miss Quill, but instead she stopped mid-pour and angrily set the French press back down on the counter. “Perfect for whom,” she sneered, fixing a glare—one stronger than her usual one—on Charlie.

“You don’t have to,” Matteusz said, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Oh, but I do,” she snapped back as she abandoned her coffee and headed out of the kitchen.

Right, that thing in her head, Matteusz remembered. Hearing Charlie explain the punishment in the abstract was one thing, but seeing it play out was something else entirely. He had heard her loudly complain about weapons and fighting, but this was different. It was odd and more than a little unsettling. None of it, however, seemed to faze Charlie.

“Well, come on,” she continued sharply from the entryway of the house. “I will need you to direct me to your house.”

“Come on,” Charlie echoed as he took his hand to lead them out the door. They made the short walk in companionable silence with the only sound being the occasional passing car and the steady click of Miss Quill’s heels on the pavement behind them. When they reached his street, Charlie stopped them. “His is the third house on the right.”

Quill nodded and took the lead, but then stopped just short of his house. Matteusz focused on her strange movements and tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. She scanned the street around them, took a step to the right, tilted her head, and then took a step back. “Stay here,” she said, pointing at a spot on the ground.

“Okay,” Charlie said.

“No.” She pointed at the ground more insistently. “Here.” 

They both took a couple of steps until she nodded and left them. Matteusz gave Charlie a curious look and he just shrugged in response. The sound of knocking made him turn towards his house, but he couldn’t see the door or the front windows. So that was why Miss Quill had them stand there—that was almost considerate.

“Hello?”

The sound of his mother’s voice caused him to flinch. Charlie squeezed his hand.

“For reasons I don’t care to learn, your son is now staying with me. I am here to collect his things.”

Matteusz didn’t hear a response other than the door closing, which he presumed meant that Miss Quill had headed straight inside without waiting for an invitation. The waiting felt like forever, but the rational side of him knew it could not be that long. Matteusz just tried to focus on Charlie’s thumb brushing over his knuckles in smooth even strokes. Finally, he heard Miss Quill’s heels and she rejoined them.

“Here.” She thrust a duffel bag at Charlie and his backpack at him. “Can’t have you fail out of school.”

“Thank you.”

Miss Quill didn’t respond other than to blink at him. “Your mother is likely still standing in the doorway,” she reported, despite not being asked to do so. “Your father did not appear to be home.”

Without further elaboration, she turned and headed briskly down the street. Clearly, she was eager to get away from them, yet she had done more than Charlie had asked her to. It was contradictory. “Miss Quill is a strange woman.”

“Yes,” Charlie agreed and then cocked his head toward the house. “Do you…?”

“No.” He took Charlie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reluctant parental figure Quill may just be my favorite Quill. Having Matteusz in the house opens up so many possibilities because he's an outside observer of their dynamic and, while Quill may loathe the presence of any humans in her life, she doesn't actively hate Matteusz.


End file.
